


A Hitter's Job

by idkimoutofideas



Category: Leverage
Genre: Episode: s04e06 The Carnival Job, Gen, the healing powers of painkillers and soup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkimoutofideas/pseuds/idkimoutofideas
Summary: Eliot kept insisting that he was fine, that he didn’t need a hospital, but Sophie knew better. After a fight like that at the carnival today… well, Sophie wasn’t an expert on injuries, but even she knew he shouldn’t be alone.
Relationships: Sophie Devereaux & Eliot Spencer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92
Collections: 2019 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange





	A Hitter's Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musingmidge77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingmidge77/gifts).



> For the Leverage 2019 Secret Santa Exchange.  
> Thanks to bisexualshakespeare for beta reading this fic  
> The prompt used was: a fic that continues the Carnival job, what would everyone’s favorite hitter do if his ‘nurse’ hadn’t shown up that evening? Would he take care of things himself, or would one of the team follow him home and help him?

Eliot watched in vague interest as Nate and Sophie gave Geoffrey his chip back. He was doing his best to ignore Parker and Hardison sitting next to him, because Hardison kept looking at him with sad eyes and it was driving Eliot crazy. He averted his gaze as Nate and Sophie came back to sit at a nearby table, fiddling with the bandages that covered his busted up right hand as a way to avoid Sophie’s calculating stare.

“Hey man, you really should’ve let us get you to a hospital.” Hardison said quietly.

Eliot glared at Hardison with all the strength he could muster despite the fact that the lights in the pub were causing jackhammers to go off in his skull. “I don’t do hospitals. I’ll be fine.” He ground out.

Truth was, he had asked his friend Gail—who was an actual nurse—if she was free that night to help him. It wouldn’t have been the first time that had happened, unfortunately she was busy. He was only a little disappointed—he liked Gail, she was fun, and nice, and didn’t pry too much when Eliot went to her for help. Not that he was going to tell his team about that, if they knew he’d actually contacted someone for help, they’d be even more worried about him.

“All you need's a little chicken noodle soup, right? Couple ice packs and a soft couch.” Parker said, punctuating her words with a few light punches that sent pain radiating out across Eliot’s body.

“Stop it.” Eliot growled, exerting all of his self control not to just snap at her. Thankfully, she listened to him, but Eliot could feel the eyes of the rest of the team on him. He sat there for another minute or so, but the background chatter of the bar along with the lights—still glaringly bright even though he was doing his best to hide his face underneath his hood—was making his head pound.

He took two deep breaths before he gingerly stood up from the table. “I’m gonna head back to my apartment.” He muttered, forcibly ignoring the wave of nausea and dizziness that threatened to overtake him as he stood.

Hardison said something else, but Eliot couldn’t focus on the words, instead putting all of his energy into not limping as he made his way out of the pub and into the street.

The cool night air felt nice on his face, but outside was just as loud as inside, and this time there were lights that flashed by him as cars drove down the street. Eliot swallowed down another wave of dizziness, and slowly started making his way towards his apartment. He gave himself about a 50/50 chance as to whether or not he would puke on the way.

* * *

Sophie’s eyes tracked Eliot as he stood up and moved towards the door of the pub. He didn’t respond to Hardison’s comment, but he walked with enough conviction that Sophie could almost believe he was fine—almost, if she hadn’t noticed the way his face became two shades paler once he stood up.

Nate turned to Parker and Hardison, who were still sitting in their booth. “How are you two doing with your little mini-Parker?”

Sophie rolled her eyes, leave it to Nate to stir the pot. Parker and Hardison started arguing about the robot, but Sophie couldn’t get her mind off of Eliot. She usually managed to keep herself from worrying about him too much, she knew he could take care of himself, but he had been in a rough fight earlier, and Sophie knew enough about injuries to know he shouldn’t be by himself.

Three minutes of sitting and worrying later, Sophie finished the last of her drink and stood up. Call her a mother hen, but she was worried about Eliot, and she wouldn’t be able to stop worrying until she knew he had at least arrived at his apartment safely. 

“Today was a rough day, I’m going to head back to my place.” Sophie told Nate.

“Hm? Oh, alright.” Sophie gave him a smile, then picked up her jacket and made her way out of the pub.

Once outside, she paused. She knew Eliot had two apartments in the city, but which one was he heading to? The place on Park Street was closer, but that was the place the whole team knew about. If Eliot really wanted to be alone, he would go to his apartment on Columbus Street. But with his injuries… Sophie’s mind flashed back to how gingerly he had moved as he left the pub, and she turned to head to his Park Street apartment. If he wasn’t there, Sophie would know he had felt ok enough to walk the extra fifteen minutes, and she wouldn’t have to check on him.

Eliot had only left a few minutes ahead of her, and it wasn’t like he could walk particularly fast, so Sophie wasn’t surprised when she caught a glimpse of him ahead of her not long into the walk. 

She slowed her steps to fall back a bit, hoping he wouldn’t notice her following her—though if he didn’t catch her, she would be even more worried about the state that he was in.

Not even a minute after she had first spotted him, he made a turn to go down a side street—away from his apartment. Sophie frowned, where was he going? As injured as he was, she knew he wasn’t so injured that he had gotten turned around, so he was doing this for a reason.

When she reached the corner, Sophie went to follow Eliot, only for her steps to falter when she could no longer see him. She didn’t stop, but was very confused as to where he disappeared to.

“I thought I told ya that I didn’t need a babysitter.” Sophie would be lying if she said she didn’t jump a little at the growling voice that was suddenly right behind her.

She turned to look at Eliot, and couldn’t help but purse her lips at the way he was standing—favoring one leg, squinting at the lights overhead. “Not a babysitter, just a concerned friend.” She replied.

Eliot glared at her. “Why’re you following me?”

Sophie let a small chuckle escape her lips. “Eliot, you and I both know that you shouldn’t be alone right now.” She said seriously. When Eliot didn’t react, Sphie had to resist rolling her eyes. “Look, you don’t have to like it, but I’m your friend and I’m worried about you. At least let me make sure you get back to your apartment safely?” Sophie held out her arm towards Eliot, who stared at her for a long moment before he sighed and gave in. he linked his arm in hers, and any hope she had that she was overreacting and he was fine quickly vanished when she felt how heavily he was leaning on her.

They started walking, and Sophie kept up a slow stream of conversation. Eliot didn’t say much, a few grunts for ‘yes’ or ‘no’, enough to let her know he was paying attention to her.

They reached Eliot’s apartment building and he slowed down. “Alright, we’re here. You gonna leave me alone now?” Sophie ignored him and continued towards the door, leaving Eliot no choice but to be pulled along with her. Though Sophie suspected that even as injured as he was, he could still over power her in a fight, so she was very glad when he didn’t try to pull away.

“So when are you actually gonna leave me alone?” Eliot asked as they stepped onto the otherwise empty elevator.

“When I’m certain you’re not going to pass out and give yourself an even worse concussion.”

“‘m not gonna pass out.” Eliot grumbled, but Sophie just ignored him. When the elevator reached the right floor, Sophie stepped off and headed towards Eliot’s apartment.

“Should I be concerned that you know where I live?” Eliot asked wearily.

“Am I supposed to believe that you don’t know where I live?” Sophie replied sarcastically. Eliot mumbled something and moved to unlock his door, then tried to shut it in Sophie’s face. She slipped in before he could, and he just sighed as he relocked the door—two deadbolts and a chain lock, which didn’t surprise Sophie at all.

“I thought you were gonna leave?”

“Oh Eliot, you should know by now not to trust what I say.”

“You don’t normally lie to us.”

Eliot’s apartment was almost exactly what Sophie had been expecting. The entrance was one big room, kind of like Nate’s apartment, except a lot smaller. There was a TV pushed up against the wall, with a coffee table, armchair, and a newish couch facing it—newish because it looked to only be a year or two old, and Sophie could spot several stains on it, she wouldn’t have been surprised if some of them were blood. A counter separated the living room from the kitchen—and it was a very nice kitchen. All stainless steel, gas stove, pots and pans hung up neatly on a wall, two sets of knives, everything in its place. There were only two windows, neither of which were particularly big, and if Sophie had to guess she would assume they were mirrored, or at least tinted so no one could see in from outside. After the incident with the shooter Moreau had sent after them last year, Eliot had convinced Nate to replace his own windows with mirrored glass. There was one door that led to a darkened bathroom, and there was also a small hallway that Sophie assumed led to Eliot’s bedroom.

Overall, the place had a very simple design. It was a crash pad, somewhere for Eliot to live, but not somewhere that he had an emotional attachment to. Sophie knew Eliot had a go bag stuffed in a closet somewhere, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if he could have everything he needed packed up and ready to go in less than five minutes if he had to.

There were only two things that surprised Sophie, the first being a very small row of books lined up on a shelf above the TV—she would’ve assumed books were too cumbersome to take everywhere, and were hard to pack. The other thing that looked out of place was a worn guitar resting against the wall in a corner.

Other than those two things, the apartment looked like it could’ve belonged to anyone. Nothing was hanging on the walls, no art or pictures, and the few pillows and blankets that were laid neatly on the couch were just different shades of blue. The place had no emotion, it didn’t look like anyone lived there.

“Sit down, I’ll grab you a few ice packs. Where do you keep painkillers?” Sophie asked, she put her jacket down on the back of the armchair and headed into the kitchen.

“I don’t need any painkillers.” Eliot argued, taking a seat on his couch. “Just grab me a beer.”

Sophie sighed and craned her head around the freezer door to look at Eliot. “You know as well as I do that you shouldn’t be drinking. When was the last time you had something to eat?” She pulled two ice packs out of the freezer, then poured a glass of water and brought it all back over to where Eliot had sat down on the couch. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and the palms of his hands pressed against his eyes. He looked up reproachfully at her as she approached.

“Sophie-”

“Eliot.” She cut him off with a glare as she handed him the ice.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” He grumbled.

“Well good thing I’m just a friend.” She turned and headed back into the kitchen. “I assume you have the ingredients to make some chicken noodle soup?”

“Sophie I can take care of myself-” The end of the sentence cut off in a sharp intake of breath, so small she almost didn’t notice it. Sophie looked back to see Eliot standing up, leaning heavily on the back of the couch while his eyes stared unfocused at a fixed point in the ground and he looked like he was trying very hard not to puke. He stayed there for several long seconds, jaw clenched as he took short, shallow breaths.

She could tell the moment the dizziness passed, because he blinked a couple times and his gaze finally focused on her. He narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“What was that you were saying about not needing help?” Sophie asked sweetly. She was rubbing it in a little thick, but he needed to get it in that brain of his that just because it was his job to protect them, didn’t mean they couldn’t help him if he needed it.

“Just… don’t make too much of a mess.” Eliot said, before he headed unsteadily towards the bathroom. The door shut behind him, and Sophie waited an extra few seconds to make sure she could hear him if he passed out. Instead, the only sound that reached her was the faint noise of retching that came from the bathroom. Sophie sighed and turned back to the cupboards to get out the ingredients—whether Eliot would actually be able to eat was another matter, but sometimes just the smell of comfort food could help.

Other than making the one thing she knew how to cook, Sohpie didn’t know how else to help Eliot. He was clearly hurting, but the only remedy she knew for concussions was simply to rest. But between Eliot’s inability to relax and Nate’s insane desire to take down any marginally corrupt millionaire that crossed their path, Sophie knew it would be no more than three days before Eliot was back on the job.

Sophie sighed, all she could do was stay with him and try to help him rest—there was no way she would be leaving him alone tonight.

The water finally boiled, and Sophie put the noodles in. The noises from the bathroom had finally ceased, so she was cautiously optimistic that Eliot would be able to take at least a few bites.

She found a bottle of painkillers, and laid out a few of them on the coffee table next to the glass of water she had gotten earlier—hopefully he’d take them. She also turned out all of the lights except for the one above the stove, which made chopping vegetables quite a bit harder. But she had seen the way Eliot had been shielding his eyes earlier, and knew from experience that bright lights made concussions even worse.

The bathroom door finally creaked open, and Sophie spared a glance to make sure Eliot wasn’t on the verge of passing out.

“It’s almost ready.” She called out. She heard him move to the door to double check the locks before finally sitting down again.

“I didn’t know you could cook, you been holding out on me?” Eliot asked, the attempted joke making the rasp in his voice even more obvious.

“Believe me, this is the only thing I know how to make.” She replied with a slight laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

Minutes later, the soup was done, and Sophie dished out one small bowl and carried it over to the couch. She handed it to Eliot, who took it gratefully but didn’t move to take a bite. As she sat down on the armchair that was adjacent to the couch, she was pleased to note that the painkillers she had laid out were gone, so at least he wasn’t a complete idiot.

“You’re not gonna have any?” Eliot asked after several minutes of silence—in which he mostly just held the bowl, only eating a few spoonfuls.

“It’s all yours.” Sophie replied.

They sat for a little while longer, when Eliot spoke again.

“Thanks.” He said quietly, the roughness of his voice having diminished quite a bit.

“Of course.” Sophie said. She could tell he wanted to say something else—the slight pinch in his brow giving it away—so she stayed silent and let him think it through.

“You didn’t need to do all of this.” He got out finally.

Sophie gave him an unimpressed look. “Eliot, if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here.”

Eliot chuckled, then winced. “I mean- as a grifter, you don’t have to be here.” Sophie arched an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. “It’s my job to keep you all safe, you don’t have to- to-”

“Repay the favor?” Sophie finished. Eliot put down his bowl and rubbed his temples.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you insulted our friendship by insinuating I’d only be here if I felt like I had to-”

“That’s not what I-”

“Because we’re friends and that’s what friends do for each other.”

“You know what I-”

“Secondly, I know it’s your job to protect us, and I appreciate that. But if you keep doing this-” Sophie gestured to the state he was in, “then you won’t be around _to_ keep us safe.”

Though he didn’t say it, Sophie knew the real reason he didn’t want her around—because he didn’t want to be seen as weak. Nevermind the fact that Eliot managed to be this put together, even after getting hit in the head by a bloody carnival ride, and Sophie honestly admired him for that. But he was a man, and an idiot, and had somehow convinced himself that showing any injury was a sign of weakness. 

Eliot sighed and ran his uninjured hand through his hair. “A hitter’s job is to take the punishment so the rest of you don’t have to. I can take care of myself.” He said, resignation in his voice.

Sophie’s mind flashed back to a different conversation with Eliot two years earlier, when he was being forced to lose a fight for a job, and he had said something extremely similar. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to.” Sophie replied softly, voicing what she hadn’t been able to say back then. 

Eliot looked away from her and buried his head in his hands, and she didn’t know if he was trying to block out the light or her needling. Either way, the conversation was clearly over, and Sophie picked up the half eaten bowl of soup and made her way back to the kitchen.

“I’ll stick the leftovers in the fridge. You should get some sleep.” Sophie said. Eliot grunted in response, and she heard shifting as he settled on the couch. 

Five minutes later, after she had cleaned everything up, she made her way back over to her seat only to find Eliot stretched out on the couch, a blanket draped across his legs and looking like he was fast asleep. She smiled, and pulled the blanket up a little higher on him before turning away. She knew he wasn’t actually asleep—his breathing was just a bit too shallow—but he was really good at pretending to be asleep. She didn’t want to think about how he had gotten so good at it, and instead moved towards the books that lined the shelf above his TV.

Sophie knew for a fact that the only reason Eliot even had a TV was because Hardison had bought him one, and Hardison wasn’t the type of person to take no for an answer. She shook her head and ran a finger along the spines of the books, not surprised at all that most of them were biographies, or short histories, or other informative books—personally, Sophie preferred romance novels, but she didn’t have much of a choice, not like she could turn on the TV. She picked one book at random and moved back towards the armchair.

Eliot was still pretending to be asleep, but his breathing had deepened some more, and he was certainly on his way to actually being asleep. She sat down and checked the time, reminding herself to wake Eliot up in two hours—as much as he may resent her for it, Sophie knew that if left untended to, concussions could get really bad. Leverage needed their hitter, and they needed their friend in one piece.


End file.
